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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27755311">Drabble December</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny/pseuds/RaeNonnyNonny'>RaeNonnyNonny</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Post-Troubled Blood, The Tottenham, Thirsty Robin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27755311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny/pseuds/RaeNonnyNonny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some yummy Strellacott content for the festive season; you’re welcome.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Robin Ellacott &amp; Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I hope you’re happy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robin wasn’t sure how they’d got in this position. And by this position, she meant Cormoran Strike, soaking wet in front of her, hair dripping and shocked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One minute they’d been giddily bantering near the fountains outside King's Cross station, nudging and dodging each other, the next ... he had become a modern-day Colin Firth Darcy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t the worst sight in the world.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Ellacott!’ he barked, shaking his head like a dog and glaring at her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I hope you’re happy.’ he growled, but she knew he didn’t seriously blame her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robin smiled coyly and answered truthfully.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Very.’</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Strike’s jaw dropped.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prove it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I KNOW he is!’</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I know, but that won’t stand up in court. Prove it.’ Strike folded his arms across his chest and leant back against his desk, his raised eyebrow earnestly challenging Robin to defend her theory, but with a hint of smirk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How she loved that look. It was infuriating. It was cocky yet calm. It was ...undeniably sexy. She’d never met someone so sure of themselves yet genuinely open to her input. She felt respected and trusted yet always drawn to be the best she could be.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had no idea how much it turned her on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I’m not doing this</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TROUBLED BLOOD SPOILER:<br/>We’re at the Ritz, of course we are, let the reader understand.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Robin’, said Cormoran, seriously, hesitantly. It was definitely something important.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m not doing this...’, he continued, then paused. He fiddled with his champagne flute.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m not doing this because I want something from you.’ He swallowed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘If I’m honest... all I want is you being around. Well, that’s all I can ask for. It isn’t... oh fuck it.’ The rest came out in a rush. ‘I can’t lie and say that’s all I’ll ever want, but I also never want you to give me more than you are willing to. My point is -‘</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And that was when Robin kissed him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Do you regret it?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin and Katie consider the road not taken.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Do you regret it? Turning down that job in HR?' Katie asked, looking at the scar on Robin’s arm.</p><p>Robin looked at her cousin, feeding her baby, representing everything she wasn’t.</p><p>She remembered leaving the interview. How unhappy she had been.</p><p> </p><p>"I thought I SHOULD regret it. But even then, I didn’t. If I had taken it, would I have left Matt?</p><p>Would I be who I am today? Or would I just be Mrs Cunliffe?"</p><p> </p><p>She realised suddenly that she couldn’t now imagine a life without Cormoran.</p><p>For that reason alone, there could never be any question of regret.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Why are you up so early?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Barclay's back, alright</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robin arrives at the office to find Barclay. She yawns, bleary-eyed, as he hands her a coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Morning Sam. Why are you up so early?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barclay grins. ‘Ah’ve got a wee bairn at hame - naebody’s sleepin’ as much as they’d like. What’s your excuse? Had a big night oot?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh, no, I was just up late doing some research for a case. I mean, I did go for one drink but nothing major really.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barclay politely pretends not to notice the colouring of her cheeks as she looks away, raking over precisely how her business partner had bid her goodnight.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Again?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I really miss pubs. And flirting. Often both at the same time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘Again?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike pointed at her empty wine glass, raising his eyebrows in the universal British signal for ‘I’m going to the bar, shall I buy you another glass of the same?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Actually’, Robin said slowly, a tentative but burgeoning smile on her face, ‘I’d quite like a pint of Doom Bar.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike nearly fell off his stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Bloody hell Ellacott, are you feelin’ alright?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I just have a strange hankering for something tall, dark and Cornish.’ She smirked, stroking the rim of her wine glass, watching him from beneath her lashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike’s eyebrow made an involuntary move toward the ceiling.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. We could get arrested for this</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A wild Shanker appears! And he ships Strellacott</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘Shanker. We could get arrested for this.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Chill aht Bunsen, this won’t get back to you. Just look the uvva way like you normally do.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I mean it, I’m not taking this from you. He’s a slippery bastard as it is, he’ll get out of it if there’s an inch of wiggle room. No deal.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘If, however, it somehow found its way into the public domain via a different route…’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Got it. Leave it with me. I’d better be off. Love to the missus by the way.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘She’s not my missus!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah, not yet. You’ll get there eventually.’</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I'm ready to try again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Post-Troubled Blood.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘Back door’s open, mate’ said Nick, as he uncorked the wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Thanks, but I’m ready to try again. Giving up.’ The corkscrew clattered onto the worktop as Ilsa and Nick turned to gawp at their friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You are?’ said Ilsa. ‘What gives?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Well, Chum said something wise…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ilsa guffawed. ‘Seems unlikely’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘...and then I went to Skegness.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Herberts stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oggy. Far be it from me to discourage you from anything leading to a positive lifestyle change but what the hell are you talking about?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s a long story. I’ll explain while we eat. We getting curry, yeah?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. This isn't just about you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 1 of 2 - Part 2 follows directly after in Chapter 10.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘This isn’t just about you, you know. You’ve got to let me in on these things. For the agency, even if not as…’ Robin looked down at her hands, mumbling slightly  ‘...best friends.’</p><p>Cormoran straightened up and looked at her sharply. ‘Hey. I meant that. Don’t you go doubting it. Me being stubborn and a bloke and crap at talking is no reflection on - on us.’</p><p>Robin looked up at him again, and smiled. She liked the way he had said ‘us.’</p><p>‘C’mere.’ She held her arms open, let him lean his head on her shoulder, and stroked his back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Tell me I'm wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 2 of the scene set in Chapter 9. Hold onto your hats people...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘Speaking of which.... I think we should talk about that night. The whisky in the office after the Oakden interview.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘After the Oakden interview’, he repeated cautiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Me with two burgeoning black eyes, yes. Did you … I felt like … if Barclay hadn’t interrupted… I don’t think I imagined it… something … between us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strike, his head still on her shoulder, froze, holding his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Tell me I’m wrong, Cormoran.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Strike exhaled. ‘No, you’re not wrong’, his tone resigned, straightening himself up reluctantly. He took a deep breath before meeting her eyes, shining wordless tenderness at full beam.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. You're trembling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘- then she threw my ashtray at me. So that explains the bleeding face.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike looked alarmed. ‘Robin, you’re trembling.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m just so ANGRY at her. Who the fuck throws a METAL ASHTRAY at someone?!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah… I just got used to Charlotte’s moods. Didn’t really register. And then of course this woman turns up and I knock her down the stairs…’ he chuckled. Robin didn’t laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Cormoran - that’s really fucked up. Doesn’t matter how mad she was.’ She took a breath. ‘If Matthew had done that to me it would be called abuse; there’s no difference. You realise that, don’t you?’</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Please talk to me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: reference to miscarriage</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Within seconds of Cormoran sitting down, Nick was in floods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve texted Ilsa ‘please talk to me’ five times, but she’s not answering.” He wiped his nose but couldn’t stop the tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God Oggy, what are we gonna do? This was the third try and she- she’s lost - ” His face crumpled, and his head fell into his hands, sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cormoran pushed a beer silently towards Nick and patted his shoulder hesitantly in a vague attempt at masculine comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll come round mate. She loves you like crazy.” he told him. He really hoped he was right about that. Life could be so unfair.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. I can't wait any longer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robin took the folder of receipts and documents from Sam and thanked him, wishing him a good weekend and went to close the door to the office after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Ellacott! I can’t wait any longer.’ Strike growled from the inner office.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Barclay smirked. ‘Ah’m no’ interrupting anythin’ am ah?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin gave him a weary look, and opened the door to reveal a hungry, focused Cormoran beginning to pile a plate high with Singapore noodles from one of an array of steaming takeaway boxes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked up at them, a mouth full of spring roll, and swallowed it with difficulty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Wot?’</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Strike/food, the original pairing since 1974.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Could we start over?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Insert 'growth!' gif here.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Strike rubbed his brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Look. Could we start over? I don’t want to fight anymore.’ He held up his hands in a ‘time out’ sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Let’s get takeaway, a few drinks, leave this for a few hours and come back to it when we’re less wound up.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Robin’s shoulders sagged, but from relief, not disappointment. Remembering their earlier bust ups, the fact he had not gone completely ballistic or run away was, in itself, progress. In fact, he still wanted to spend time with her, even when they were at odds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, and reached for her phone to order.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. What took you so long?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘I’m so in love with you, Robin’, he whispered, even his voice broken with years of longing, his eyes desperate and haunted. ‘You have no fucking idea.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m just so bloody terrified. I’m bound to fuck things up and I can’t bear hurting you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But I’ve come to see there’s nothing else for it. There’s nobody else for me. Fuck the agency; I just hope you don’t hate me for this.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What took you so long?’ Robin whispered, her hands reaching for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His arms enveloped her and he clung to her like a shipwrecked man hugging a life raft.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This made me start singing a song I've probably not heard for 18 years but STILL know the words to:<br/>Emma Bunton - What took you so long? - released in January 2001<br/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ybZB87CEbuY<br/>How does my brain do that?!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Stay with me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>'Would you like to hear about the migratory patterns of the black marlin?' - Career of Evil episode 2, Strike (TV)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>‘Robin? Robin. I’m here. Stay with me. It’s okay.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought his large warm hands to sandwich her left hand and rubbed the back of it steadily, eyes watching her face and her breathing, trying to make her feel safe and anchor her to ride out the panic attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gasping continued and she still kept her eyes focussed on the floor but nodded to acknowledge him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike searched his mind for an interesting story to distract her. ‘Let me tell you about what Dave Polworth and I got up to in primary school. I’ve never told anyone this before…’</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Is this necessary?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vanessa Ekwensi FTW</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robin sighed as Vanessa pushed a pair of tequila shots towards her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Is this necessary?’, asked Robin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘It is if you keep looking as glum as you do. What’s up? Work getting on top of you?’</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh no, I love work’ Robin started, a shade too enthusiastically. Vanessa’s mouth twitched. It reminded Robin of DI Wardle’s smirk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Just divorce drama. Matt being a twat, etcetera.’ She stared wanly at her ring-free finger.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Well all the more reason to let loose a bit. It’s been so long since we’ve been out. Come on, down these and let’s have a dance.’</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. You're so warm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gratuitous cuddling</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘You’re so warm, Cormoran’ she murmured. They were lying on the farting sofa napping, Cormoran spooning Robin loosely in a post-lunch haze.</p><p>‘Sorry’, said Cormoran automatically. ‘D’you want me to move?’ he offered, reluctantly.</p><p>‘No, it’s good.’ Robin said, yawning, her eyes still closed. ‘You’re a renewable source of energy. Very good for the planet. I’ve just got to keep feeding you curry and you make a great radiator.’ She snuggled up against his back in a tighter ball, dragging his arm up to rest over her chest.</p><p>Cormoran responded with the definition of a belly laugh, rippling through them both.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. I’m still awake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Text cuteness</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(11.51pm) Robin: Home safe. Thank you again Strike. Sleep well xx</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span class="s1">10th October 2014</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.34am) Robin: I’m still awake.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.34am) Cormoran: Yeah. Me too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Champagne will do that to you. Even the good stuff.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.35am) Robin: It was very good champagne :)</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.41am) Cormoran: Well, you only turn 30 once.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.42am) Robin: Shame. I think I’m going to like being 30 a lot...</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.42am) Cormoran: Oh yeah?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.43am) Cormoran: I wasn’t a fan of the first half of my thirties, but things definitely improved when I was 35 :)</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.44am) Robin: Oh really? ;)</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">(1.44am) Cormoran: Definitely :) Xx</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. What’s on your mind?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robin was sitting at Pat’s desk (Pat was on a day off and Robin had volunteered to man the phones) trying to reduce their inbox.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cormoran, meanwhile, had been looking at Robin thoughtfully throughout the time it took him to boil the kettle for their tea, like she was the final clue to his crossword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was mildly annoyed - didn’t he have some case files to be looking at, or emails to answer?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘What’s on your mind?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh nothing. Just wondering how quickly I would have gone bankrupt if you hadn’t turned up.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Nonsense’, said Robin, blushing but secretly preening.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. That feels so good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oooooh’, sighed Robin. Cormoran’s ears pricked up at the sound. She was in the inner office alone. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘That feels so good!’ Her tone was borderline indecent.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Alright?’ asked Strike, entering and identifying the source of her pleasure.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robin had kicked off her glamorous but impractical high heels and plunged her blistered feet into a bowl of warm water. Opening her eyes she smiled dreamily at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘God I miss trainers. You’re so lucky you don’t have to wear these under cover.’</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘How d’you know I don’t have a pair?’ Strike’s eyes twinkled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Robin guffawed. ‘Don’t think they do your size.’</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. I can't stop thinking about you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 1</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robin paced out her words carefully, like they were stepping stones across a swift river. </p><p>‘Cormoran. D’you remember when Ilsa kept pushing us to get together?’ <em> Deep breaths, keep your eyes on your hands. </em></p><p>‘Well, I was wondering’ <em> keep your tone light, like it’s no big deal </em> ‘what you thought when she said that.’ <em>Just get it out.</em></p><p>‘Because I can’t stop thinking about you.’</p><p>
  <em> Phew. </em>
</p><p>‘I’ve tried not to feel or admit it to myself but I don’t think I can.’</p><p>Robin realised she hadn’t heard him breathe and forced herself to look up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To be continued...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Can you believe it?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 2 (the story continues from Chapter 22)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘In fact, I think I might have realised I l… I think I knew at my wedding that I shouldn’t have married Matthew, and that I hoped you would ask me to leave with you.’ She huffed a small laugh. ‘Can you believe it?’</p><p>She still hadn’t heard Strike breathe or seen him move. Steeling herself for embarrassment, she looked up into his face, apprehension in her eyes as she sought his. </p><p>He had certainly frozen in place, his pint slightly raised, eyes fixed on her, but instead of the terror she expected to see, he wore the strangest expression.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. It's like magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 3</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Yeah’, said Cormoran, simply. Just like he had on the steps of Swinton Park. ‘I can. I <em> really </em>can.’ He put down his pint and reached to take her hand.</p><p>‘Robin.’ he continued, low and deliberate, slightly hoarse. ‘You have no idea what you mean to me.’ He swallowed and she was suddenly transfixed by his Adam’s apple, while he gazed tenderly at her. ‘I hope I can show you.’</p><p>‘Every time I see you, hear your voice or just get a text from you, you always manage to make me feel better about life. I swear, it’s like magic.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. I never want this to end</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 4</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robin let out the breath she’d been holding. ‘Oh thank God.’</p><p>She stroked his palm with her thumb. Cormoran shivered, intertwined their fingers and placed his other hand on top.</p><p>‘I’ve been so scared’ Robin continued. ‘This partnership we have for work, hopefully also our friendship… well, probably the other way round actually - I never want this to end.’</p><p>Cormoran smiled. ‘Yeah. Same here. But I’ve been over it in my mind enough times, and y’know what, Robin? With everything it's weathered so far, I reckon we’ll make it work. And I think we’d regret it if we didn’t try.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Let's go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part 5</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robin bit her lip to hide the grin of joy that threatened to overtake her. She’d imagined so many scenarios, and no doubt so had he, that could result from this conversation. This was a pretty great one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘We’re due at the meeting soon.’ said Strike, showing no sign of movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Let’s go.’ Robin reached for her handbag, straightened up her clothing, then glanced back at his face, smiling, eyes sparkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strike gazed at her, and she flushed but kept his gaze. He smiled fondly at her and stroked her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘In a minute. First I want to kiss you.’ </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. We'll never make it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bell for last orders rang at the bar.</p><p>Strike swore. ‘Already?! Shit - I’m going to miss the last train’. </p><p>‘It’s not that far, is it?’ said Robin. ‘If you’re quick…’</p><p>‘Nah, leg’s buggered, we’ll never make it. Bloody thing.’</p><p>Robin opened her mouth, then closed it. Strike was on his phone, cursing himself and wincing at the thought of a taxi fare. He didn’t notice her hesitation.</p><p>‘Look, you could always stay at mine. On the sofa, I mean. It’s no trouble. Just come home with me.’ she babbled.</p><p>Strike felt his spirits lift. ‘You sure? OK… yeah. Thanks.’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. After all this time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Guess who’s back?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robin slit open the envelope. An old photo fell out, showing a laughing Charlotte Campbell with her arm around a young Cormoran. A sticky note on the back of the photo read:<br/>‘I remember how good it could be.<br/>After all this time, don’t think you can forget.’</p>
<p>Robin sighed internally. She handed it to Cormoran opposite her. Would he react? How?</p>
<p>Cormoran glanced at the photo and read the message.</p>
<p>‘Pat’, he called, ‘that shredder working again?’ <br/>Without waiting for an answer, Cormoran turned it on and pushed the photo calmly through. <br/>He turned to a watching Robin.</p>
<p>‘Tea?’</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Always</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Inconsequential fluff.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It is Monday morning. Cormoran, already at the desk in the inner office, hears the door open at 8.55am and Robin’s familiar gait as she shrugs off her trench coat and hangs it on the coat rack just inside the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Hiya!’ she calls, in her slightly singsong, Yorkshire way, brisk yet cheerful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Mornin’. Kettle’s just boiled.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘And I’ve just been to Tesco, got some milk.’</span>
</p>
<p><span>‘Ah shit, milk, I forgot. Thanks.’</span> <span>he calls back. ‘You didn’t happen to- ’</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Robin walks into the room, holding out a packet of biscuits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Always.’ She smiles, ducking her head. Cormoran beams back.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Cormoran loves biscuits (also Robin). What does he love more? Robin remembering to buy biscuits.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Say it again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A snapshot of another time (circa CoE-LW?) Robin rescues her boss-partner from the pub. (“I’m a bit sad, Robin.”) Yes it’s Sad!Drunk!Strike time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robin comes back from the loo and finds him squaring up to a two-dimensional lifesized image of a Spurs player, advertising the Premier League.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Say it again. G’won, dare ya.’ The cardboard cutout unsurprisingly stays silent. He tsks derisively. ‘Fucker.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Cormoran?’ Robin stifles a giggle, but it makes her sad to have found him like this, drowning his sorrows alone. He clearly isn’t happy but this time he won’t tell her why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Robinnn!!!’ He greets her, face lighting up, wobbling precariously, arms out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That’s me. Come on, let’s get you home.’ She slips an arm under his, steering him firmly.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Kiss me dammit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sorry, I was really struggling with this one - I just couldn't figure out how to get two extremely in-denial Brits to say it to each other (and I really wanted them NOT together because pining is delicious) but I think I was just being unimaginative - hope this works anyway. and a happy New Year to you all wherever you are..</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Kiss me dammit!" declared an actor onscreen as the music swelled. </p><p>Cormoran snorted as he came in with beers. Robin was sat on the office sofa with her laptop set up, ready for a film. It was a last-minute NYE plan but both were secretly thrilled.</p><p>"Nobody says that in real life do they?" he asked, rhetorically.</p><p>"Maybe you're just not saying it right. It's all in the inflection - I'd imagine." said Robin, airily, darting him a look.</p><p>"Oh yeah?" drawled Cormoran, sitting beside her and smiling. "Tenner if you can manage it naturally."</p><p>Robin smiled shyly back. "You're on."</p>
  </div></div>
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